The Bennets: A Prologue
by alimison
Summary: Why was it that Mr Bennet and his cousin, Mr Collins' father, argued to begin with? A woman, of course.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One—The Beginning

"James? Are you there?" called Cathy in the quiet, unassuming voice that always told him she needed help but hated imposing. Poor thing, she was only eight, so small she could pass for six, despite the maturity of her features, and she had been mostly confined to bed for the last year; this, coupled with the generous and affectionate spirit Nature had bestowed upon her, led her always to believe that she was a nuisance and a bother. In fact, James thought that she was less of a nuisance as an invalid than most children were when healthy, and more of an angel, and he loved her accordingly.

He quickly made his way to her bedside. She looked paler than usual. "What's the matter, Cathy?"

"I think I am going to be sick again," she murmured. "I'm sorry."

He stroked her hair gently. "Poor little alley cat. Shall I get you a basin?"

She smiled at his nickname for her. "Yes please. Are Mama and Papa still out?"

"Yes. They will be back soon." He patted her forehead with a damp cloth and held her hair back while she vomited into the basin he had handed her. It made him so unhappy to see her thin little body racked with pain, but he tried to smile as she lay back, tired, and took the basin away. He was back soon. "How are you feeling?"

She smiled bravely. "I'm allright. Will you stay and talk to me?"

"Of course," he said softly. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Mama said something about a new family coming to Gapwick. Is it true?"

"Yes, indeed it is," he said, sitting back in the chair. "The Maxwells. I have heard they are an exceedingly pleasant family. Papa has visited them already. He said they seem very genteel but not exactly well-to-do. Mr Maxwell, he says, is not the most accommodating of men, but he says Mrs Maxwell and her children are kindness itself."

"How old are the children?" asked Cathy eagerly.

"I believe the eldest son is one-and-twenty, and the youngest daughter is eleven, and there are three children in between them. Two sons and three daughters."

"When shall we meet them?"

"Well, I heard a rumour that they are coming to us for dinner two days from now…"

"Oh, good. I like new people," said Cathy, looking happy as she lay back on her pillow. "I hope I will be well enough to see them. I have a feeling about them. I think they will be our friends."

"Do you?" smiled James. "That is comforting to hear."

Cathy smiled back. "Don't you dare make fun of me, James Bennet."

"Me? Make fun of you, Cathy?"

Cathy pouted. "I hope Mama and Papa come home soon. Then you can leave me and go out and shoot, or whatever it is you _men_ like to do."

James sensed the slightly guilty tone of her voice, and airily replied, "Oh, no, I don't care for shooting today. I am amusing myself too well here, making fun of you."

She relaxed slightly. "Very funny, James. What else did Papa say about the Maxwells?"

"That the eldest daughter, Elizabeth, is very pretty; that Helena, the youngest, is all energy and brightness; that the youngest boy, whose name I forget, is obsessed with all things mechanical. He said Mr Maxwell thinks himself very intelligent and Mrs Maxwell _is_ very intelligent."

"Well, she is a woman—of course she is," said Cathy, looking mischievous. He was pleased to see some more colour come back into her face.

"Cathy! Please! Have some discretion, show some propriety," said James, in an uncannily fair representation of their maiden aunt, Matilda Bennet, who often stayed with her brother's family in Gapwick.

Cathy giggled. "I will own this, James, you show an extraordinary amount of intelligence for a male."

"Thank you, Cathy," said James, looking humble. "That means a lot to me."

"Don't get conceited," she warned him. "You _are_ fourteen years older than me. That is a big advantage."

He hung his head. "Very true."

"Don't laugh at me, James!"

He laughed, and stood up. "I think you should get some rest now, Cathy."

She sighed. "I suppose so."

"Are you feeling better?"

"Yes. Will you send Mama or Papa in when they get back from our uncle's house?"

He stroked her hair. "I will not need to; they will come without any prompting."

She smiled. "Thank you, James."

He frowned. "What did I tell you yesterday, about not apologising or thanking all the time? I have enjoyed myself. Sleep well."

She nodded, looking slightly happier. James pulled the curtains and quietly shut the door. He leaned against the wall for a moment, looking worried. Cathy was just getting thinner and thinner.

He moved slowly through to the library, and sat down with his book again. His cousin Frederick Collins would have disapproved of it greatly; it was a book on Greek mythology. Currently he was rereading the story of Oedipus. Frederick called it "immoral, improbable stuff, not worth the paper it was written on". His cousin was a stolid, staunchly practical sort of person, who couldn't understand the idea of literature for literature's sake. "If it doesn't have a practical or religious use, what is the use of reading it?" James disagreed. He thought it was fascinating. "But then, you have always been overly bookish, have you not, James?" he remembered Frederick saying. He laughed. Frederick was such a stodge, but James liked him, in an affectionate sort of way. His cousin was four years older than him, at six-and-twenty, but James had always outstripped Frederick in anything he had attempted. He could tell Frederick thought this wasn't quite right, but had always treated James with the same kindly attentions and interest in his wellbeing, and James respected him for that lack of jealousy.

His parents were at Frederick's house at that very moment, or on their way back, most probably. They had asked him if he wanted to come, as apparently Henrietta was longing to see him, but James, worried about Cathy, and eager to avoid Henrietta and her slightly embarrassing and irritating attentions, insisted on staying behind to watch Cathy rather than leaving her with Nurse, who deserved a day off.

He shook these thoughts from his head, and tried to concentrate on Oedipus Rex.

"Hello, darling."

It was Papa. Cathy opened her eyes blearily. "Papa…"

He smiled at her. "How are you feeling?"

She smiled, stretching. "Good. How long have I slept?"

"Nurse says since two o'clock, and it is now… hmmm… eight o'clock. I thought you might like to be woken."

"Eight o'clock!" Cathy exclaimed, sitting up. Sure enough, it was dark outside, and Papa carried a candle. "Are the Maxwells still here?" she asked anxiously.

"Yes, but I think it best if you stay here, darling."

"Oh, Papa—"

He held up a finger. "Don't argue. I have a surprise for you."

She grinned impulsively. "Is it good to eat?"

"You could try, but I doubt of its being amenable to your tastebuds."

"Is it pretty?"

"Very." He turned to the door. "James is going to bring it up to you very soon. It wished most expressly to be acquainted with you. Sit tight."

He left the room, and Cathy lay back on the pillows, feeling tired and secretly not so upset to miss going downstairs. She saw the door open slowly, and James' head appear around it, smiling. "James! Did you bring me Papa's surprise?"

"I did indeed," James said, and opened the door wider. Behind him stood the most beautiful girl Cathy had ever seen, of about nineteen years, with curly, chestnut hair, sparkling blue eyes, and a happy smile on her face. The light settled on her in such a way that it almost seemed as if a halo shimmered above her head. "Cathy, this is Miss Elizabeth Maxwell. Miss Maxwell, this is my little sister, Miss Catherine Bennet!"

Cathy laughed. "So this was my pretty surprise!"

The apparition laughed. "I hope I have not disappointed you. I _told_ you, Mr Bennet, that perhaps it was not a good idea!"

"No, I had rather meet you than get any present!" declared Cathy, sitting up against her pillows.

"Well, I must say I am glad to hear that, because I was most disappointed to hear you could not dine with us tonight," said Miss Maxwell, sitting down on the chair beside Cathy's bed, while James sat down on the other side of the bed. Cathy thought he looked at Miss Maxwell rather eagerly.

"Yes, Cathy, she particularly asked us why Miss Bennet was not present," he said, shifting his attention to his sister.

"Why?" asked Cathy with the bluntness of the child she was.

"Oh—well," Miss Maxwell whispered, "do you promise not to tell?"

"Yes," said Cathy, leaning forward with a smile on her face.

Miss Maxwell shot a quick smile at James. "I met a certain someone yesterday, on my walk. He told me that Miss Bennet was the cleverest, brightest girl around. I immediately wanted to meet her."

Cathy laughed, but looked sharply at James. "James, you met Miss Maxwell? You never told me."

"He must have forgotten," laughed Miss Maxwell.

James shook his head firmly. "Anything but that."

"Then what happened?" asked Cathy.

The two elders looked at each other briefly, smiling.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two—Wildflowers and Fish

After James had finally finished writing down his thoughts on Oedipus the day before, he rose from his seat, put on his coat with a flourish, and went outside, airily telling the butler where he was headed, secretly glad to be in the open air, alone, again. Mama and Papa had come home with the news that Henrietta was the silliest girl in the world but that she was breaking her heart over him, which he had not attended to greatly. _Women!_ he thought, exasperated. If Henrietta, a twitty, vivacious nineteen-year-old, had decided to indulge a _tendre_ for him, it was not his fault. He laughed. She was about as far removed as it is possible to be from the character of Frederick—and they were brother and sister. If only they had been a mixture of each other's personalities, then they would be estimable people indeed. Somehow, they had ended up at opposite extremes.

He found his fishing rod, and strode down the brook to where it joined with the larger stream, sitting down by his favourite spot. It looked like it was going to drizzle soon, but he sat down regardless, eagerly winding out his reel. He had not had time for this for too long. The only imperfection with the spot was that it was somewhat public; the track through the woods from the church branched within a few yards of it. The fishing, however, was so good here that it was worth risking interruptions for the thrill of actually finding fish in the river.

Before long, James was rewarded with a bite, and excitement rose as he fought with it briefly, landing it too quickly for his enthusiasm to die. It was not large, as trout go, but he placed it gently in the box, and returned to his rod. Just as he was about to wind out again, he heard a voice.

"Excuse me, sir, I am very sorry to interrupt, but do you know which path will take me to the church? I am so sorry!"

He sighed, but hid his annoyance. Standing up, he turned around with his arm already in the air, ready to point to her the way, when he saw her. He blinked. "Er…" He couldn't quite remember what he had been going to say.

She stood in front of him, slightly shorter than him, her face framed by a light blue bonnet, carrying a bunch of wildflowers. "I am so sorry," she repeated. Her lips parted in a shy but friendly smile.

"Er, not at all," James heard himself saying. "I'm sorry… where is it that you want to go?"

"The church," she said helpfully.

"Oh, well, if you follow this path along here…" he began.

She listened carefully to his instructions, looking anxious. "And from the church, whence is the vicarage? I am to visit Mrs Henry."

James looked at her for a moment. "I'll tell you what. Come with me, I'll show you where to go." He picked up his rod.

"Oh no," she said, distressed. "I don't want to keep you from your fishing."

"I was about to stop anyway," he lied, and held out his hand. "I'm James Bennet. You must be one of the Maxwells?"

"Yes, I am," she laughed. "I'm Elizabeth. Your father came to visit us yesterday, did he not?"

He nodded assent. "I am very glad to make your acquaintance."

"And I yours; I liked your father very much. We all said that if he was indicative of the neighbourhood at large, we were glad we have come."

He smiled. "He is a good man."

"I hear you have a small sister?"

"Yes, she is called Cathy. She is rather unwell most of the time, unhappily. I wish you could meet her, she is wonderful."

She looked at him attentively. "It is not often, I expect, that a big brother would say that of a younger sister. I think I must try to make her acquaintance."

"I hope so," he said, growing more confident.

It was the easiest conversation he had ever enjoyed with a woman who was not family. James was renowned, in the general society of Gapwick, for being the intelligent type who _could_ be very witty and friendly, if he was in the mood, but generally he just withdrew into himself somewhere, merely irritated by the ways of most females, and preferred to socialise with his few male friends or stay in the card-room. With Elizabeth, however, it was different from the beginning. How they got onto the subject he did not know, but halfway to the church he found them talking about Oedipus. Minutes later, she was discussing the law with him. And by the time they arrived at the church, he was explaining the names of each flower she had collected, that she had not seen before.

"I'm afraid they are wilting a little," Elizabeth said ruefully. "What sort of woman is Mrs Henry? Do you think she will like them, or are they not grand enough?"

James was quick to assure her otherwise. "No, no, Mrs Henry is not that sort of woman, she will welcome you with open arms and go into raptures over the flowers and quote Cowper to you."

Elizabeth smiled. "I am pleased to hear it."

They came to the vicarage gates. "Thank you so much for showing me the way, Mr Bennet, and for telling me these flower names. I am greatly indebted to you."

He took off his hat. "Nothing of the sort, Miss Maxwell. Thank you for letting me accompany you. I am looking forward to seeing you tomorrow evening."

"As am I, also. Goodbye," she smiled shyly, and turned into the vicarage entrance. He watched her go, fiddling with his hat and wondering why her eyes were so blue.

"So that was all?" asked Cathy suspiciously. "You walked her to the church, and you talked about me?"

"Oh, we talked about a great many other things as well," said Elizabeth, smiling at James. "Your brother told me about the flowers I was carrying, for one thing, and about the book he has been studying, and we discussed the law, did we not?"

"All that?" asked Cathy, stunned. "Why, James never talks that much to girls! I don't believe you!"

James laughed. "You are a girl, Cathy."

She smiled. "Yes, but you know what I mean!" She turned to Elizabeth. "You are telling the truth, though, aren't you, Miss Maxwell?"

"You must call me Elizabeth. Indeed I am telling the truth, though, and I feel very honoured," she replied, smiling again at James. He merely looked at her with an odd little smile on his face, leaning on his elbows, and Cathy looked at his face. She was puzzled for a moment, before it suddenly occurred to her that James had fallen in love. She sat back suddenly and started laughing.

"What is it, Cathy?" James said, tearing his gaze away from Elizabeth's, who had gone rather pink-cheeked.

"Nothing," she said, forcing herself to stop. "I am just so pleased to meet you, Miss Max—Elizabeth!"

Elizabeth squeezed her hand. "I am too. May I come and visit you again, another time? You look tired now, but would you like to meet my youngest sister? She was upset that she could not meet you tonight. Shall I bring her with me another time soon?"

"Please do!" said Cathy enthusiastically.

James and Elizabeth stood up. "Good night, Cathy," said James, winking at her.

"I will see you soon, Cathy," said Elizabeth with a smile, leaving the room.

Just as James was about to follow suit, Cathy whispered, "James! I _know_ you're in love with her."

James looked surprised, and then his face relaxed into a smile. "Don't tell anyone!" He shut the door quietly.

"What was that?" asked Elizabeth, turning around.

"Oh, I just said good night again to Cathy," James lied glibly, taking Elizabeth's arm. "Did you like her?"

"Yes, I did, she is very sweet. Helena will love her too. Thank you very much for letting me visit her."

"It really was a pleasure."

They entered the drawing room again, and Elizabeth sat down by her mother, who had asked her a question, while James went to talk to the eldest of the Maxwells, Jonathan, who was only a year younger than him, at one-and-twenty. Jonathan was also an enjoyer of fishing, and therefore, great conversation and anecdote-swapping ensued, but James' thoughts were constantly on another subject that evening.

He heard, at one point, Mrs Maxwell telling his mother that she and her three eldest who were out—besides Jonathan and Elizabeth, there was Alice, who was almost seventeen—were definitely coming to the next dance, at the Gapwick Assembly Rooms. James' heart beat, and he had to take a few gulps of air before turning to Elizabeth, and saying, "Miss Maxwell, may I then have the pleasure of the first two dances with you?"

She gave him an excited smile. "Yes please, Mr Bennet, I would like that very much."

Mrs Maxwell patted her husband's knee as he sat forward, looking alarmed.

_If you liked this chapter (even if you didn't!), come and check out some original fiction and poetry at an e-zine myself and some other writers have created: _

_www. halfwaydownthestairs. net! We've put a lot of work into it and had a lot of fun, so it would be great to get any comments on it. We also accept outside submissions for our next publication. _

_See you there!_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three—The First Obstacles

"Elizabeth, I don't want you flirting with that Bennet boy," her father said curtly on the way home.

"Father!" gasped Elizabeth. "I was not flirting with him!"

"Elizabeth," warned her mother quietly. "My dear, I don't think Elizabeth means to do anything of the sort."

"It's nothing to do with what she means to do," he said gruffly. "You know as well as I, my dear, that Elizabeth must marry for safety and influence—if you had had less girls it may have been a different matter, but this is as the matter stands—and there is no safety whatsoever with the Bennet boy. Why, he has nothing to his name, for his eldest brother, who I hear is with the army, will inherit the estate, as small as it is, and I hear there is next to no money in it, anyhow. Apparently this James is second in line for an estate in Hertfordshire, but nothing will come of that."

"Flirting does not amount to marriage, Papa!" said Alice indignantly, squeezing Elizabeth's hand, as her sister was looking upset.

"Watch your tongue, Alice," was all he replied. "Elizabeth, I will not have you encouraging the boy at all. I suppose you will have to dance with him now, but beyond that, I do not want you to encourage any unflattering attentions he may bestow upon you."

Elizabeth merely bit her lip in response. When the carriage arrived at their new house, she rushed immediately up the stairs to the bedchamber she shared with her sister. Alice followed her uncertainly, arriving just as Elizabeth flung her bonnet on the floor and lay down on her bed. "Are you…" she began, but didn't know what to say. "Did he… Do you like him, Elizabeth?"

"Yes!" said Elizabeth angrily. "I like him! Father is so mercenary, so… I am sorry. I should not say such things."

Alice sat down on her bed, looking glum. "However improper, it is the truth. I wish he would not reproach Mama for having daughters. That is going too far. After all, it is not as if she did it by herself."

"Alice!" Elizabeth looked up, trying not to giggle.

Alice laughed. "But seriously, Elizabeth, do you think you like this James Bennet? I thought he was very quiet."

Elizabeth pulled her pillow to her thoughtfully. "He isn't really. I didn't tell you before, but I met him yesterday. He showed me the way to the vicarage. He didn't have any trouble talking to me then."

"I suppose it is because you are so beautiful," said Alice nobly, fingering her own mousy-brown hair.

"Nonsense," said Elizabeth, frowning. "I do not know why you must needs always insist on your own inferiority, Alice. You have the most beautiful nose I have ever seen."

Alice giggled, although she was secretly delighted. "Nose? Thank you very much."

Elizabeth laughed too, but started to look sad again. "Alice, I don't know what to do. I will be so embarrassed if I have to repel him."

Alice sighed. "If James Bennet finds a good occupation, Father may consider him?"

Her sister shook herself. "Don't let's talk about it yet, Alice. I have known him for a day. Indeed, I hope I do not truly like him, or he does not like me, as it would be better for us both."

"Well," said Alice staunchly, "I don't think you should avoid him at all. Father was just in a cantankerous mood tonight. He may feel differently if you have no other offers and if Mr Bennet is the only one to ask for you."

"Hmm, I suppose so."

"You could elope?"

Elizabeth burst into laughter. "Pray, Alice, do stop talking about this! You don't know how ridiculous it sounds! Me, eloping?"

Alice flopped down on the bed as her sister got up and began undressing. "Oh well, it was an idea."

"Goodnight, Alice," Elizabeth said with a smile.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The monthly dance at the Gapwick Assembly Rooms was always an exciting event, but it was made even more exciting for everyone in the village and the surrounding area by the certainty of having the four Maxwells there. Luckily for Elizabeth and Alice, their father despised balls, and it was their mother, a slightly more sympathetic parent, perhaps, who took them, and their brother. Jonathan did not enjoy dancing itself very much, but as a handsome and quite vain young man, he was never one to pass up the first possible chance to meet potentially pretty women. He was not disappointed; Henrietta Collins, who seemed to have recovered from her heartbreak, was happy to monopolise him for the majority of the evening. Her brother Frederick eyed this all disapprovingly, of course.

Many young men were frustrated to hear that James had already claimed the first two dances with Miss Maxwell. "It's just like you, James," said one of his friends, "to avoid dancing like the plague when everyone else is obliged to do it, but to take all the pleasure for yourself when everyone else is wishing they could be!"

James laughed. "Sorry, Robert! You would have done the same yourself! Luckily for me, I have a prior advantage."

Elizabeth was generally acknowledged to be the prettiest girl in the room, while her younger sister was by no means ignored, and as she had no fortune whatsoever, none of the mothers of boys present had any qualms seeing her dance so beautifully with James Bennet at the beginning of the assembly. Some even went so far as to remark what a lovely couple they made, and how genuinely good and polite she seemed.

James and Elizabeth came off the dance floor laughing, after he managed to ruin two faultless dances by stepping on her toes just as the second finished. He could have hit himself on the head at first, but after she laughed and laughed, he began to see the funny side of it and thought that maybe he had not ruined his advantage with her at all. He saw Frederick Collins standing along the side by himself, watching his younger sister worriedly as Henrietta danced in a rather abandoned manner with Jonathan Maxwell, and smiled to himself. "Come and meet my cousin, Frederick Collins," he urged Elizabeth. She expressed herself quite willing to do so, and they made their way to the young Mr Collins.

"Good evening, Frederick!" said James, grinning at his cousin. "I have come to introduce you to Miss Maxwell!"

Frederick turned slightly, registered who it was and smiled in return. "Why, good evening, James! So you are the Miss Maxwell everyone has been talking about!" James grinned as he noticed that Frederick was trying to hide his disapproval that people were talking about Elizabeth.

"Yes, sir, and you are Mr Collins, whom I have heard a lot about also," replied Elizabeth with a sweet smile.

"Well, well!" said Frederick, looking pleased, and standing up a little straighter. "You look very well, Miss Maxwell, if you don't mind me saying so!"

James didn't much like the way Frederick was looking at Elizabeth, and said, trying to sound clear, "Miss Maxwell has just done me the honour of dancing the first two dances with _me_, Frederick."

He regretted this, as Frederick replied, "Oh, has she? That puts me in a great mind to ask you, Miss Maxwell, if you will do me the same honour for the next set?"

Elizabeth's smile was polite, if a little forced, which James was quick to notice. "It is I who would be honoured, sir."

"Well, well!" said Frederick, satisfied. "Thank you for introducing me to Miss Maxwell, James!" He took Elizabeth's arm and led her off proprietarily, while James tried not to scowl and look like a fool. After all, she wasn't officially his.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

James was upstairs, reading to Cathy, one day, when he heard steps coming along the hallway, and voices. He stopped mid-sentence. "I think you must have visitors, Cathy."

Cathy smiled. "Yes, I suppose it is Miss Maxwell, James."

But when the door opened, Mama, only Mrs Maxwell, and the youngest Maxwell, Helena, entered. "Cathy, dear, this is Mrs Maxwell! You remember you met Miss Maxwell? Well, this is her mother, and this is Miss Helena!"

Cathy smiled, after glancing quickly at James, who was trying to smile politely. "It is very very nice of you to come to visit me!"

Helena bounced around to the bedside. "I'm Helena, Cathy. I'm eleven. Do you like dolls?"

"Yes, very much," said Cathy, her eyes lighting up. "I have only one but I love her."

"Oh good, you're that sort of person!" said Helena, grinning.

Mrs Maxwell smiled at the two children and turned to James. "I understand that Elizabeth said she would bring Helena, but I send her apologies. She could not come."

Helena spoke up. "Father said she could not, because he doesn't want her coming here—"

Mrs Maxwell jumped in. "She has a bad cold, he doesn't want her to give it to anyone else." She held her composure well, but both James and his mother noticed a tiny particle of distress in her eyes. "Least of all this young lady!"

"I am sorry to hear that Miss Maxwell is unwell," said Mrs Bennet kindly. "I do hope she recovers soon."

"Oh, I am sure she will," replied Mrs Maxwell. "It is not a _very_ bad cold, just enough to keep her in the house."

"James, can you fetch Molly for me?" asked Cathy from the bed, an eager look in her eyes. "I want to show her to Helena."

"Of course," he said, smiling. It was good to see Cathy making a friend again. Most of the children in the district were a little scared by her sickness, and even if they were brought to visit her, they tended to be very quiet and helpful, which Cathy didn't want at all. She made out that she didn't mind—she was a very mature little girl—but James was pleased to see the enthusiasm in her eyes now. But when he went into the next room to find Cathy's china doll, he paused for a moment by the doorway. Could Helena have meant that Elizabeth's father didn't want her coming to the Bennet house… because of him?


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four—A Clandestine Meeting

Elizabeth left the house with a bang of the door. She thought if she stayed any longer she would get a headache. Father had been shouting at Mama again. This was happening more and more often lately. She suspected that Mama had gone to him about her, but it must have backfired. She hated that Mama looked so pale now, that all her beauty was fading. She was always so tired, so diplomatic, and Father just rode right over her in everything. He had not always been like this. She remembered when she was younger, and he was more optimistic, while Mama had been so amazingly beautiful, so graceful, but then they had lost money and he had lost his temper more and more often. Now her parents were both so different to what they had been, though Mama still retained all her kindness and affection for her children. Perhaps she was a little too affectionate sometimes, thought Elizabeth, regarding her eldest brother. Elizabeth did not approve of how much Mama let Jonathan get away with, and she did not like that Mama was always having to fight on his behalf to get pocket-money or new clothes or anything else he fancied from Father. And Jonathan just rode over Mama also. It made Elizabeth angry.

She made her way to the river, and sat down with a sigh on the stump she had first seen James sitting on. It embarrassed her that she was not allowed to go to the Bennets to visit Cathy with Helena. He would think she didn't want to, when in fact she really wished to see the little girl, although she had to admit to herself that her thoughts in leisure time dwelt with James alone. It was silly, she told herself firmly, to think about him this often. She had known him for just over a week, that was all. Yes, she had felt a peculiar affinity with him when she first saw him that time, but she must have been imagining it… although Cathy had said that he never talked to girls that much, so then maybe he felt the same way… She sighed. It was no use, in any case. She had hoped that maybe Alice was right, that Father would change his mind, but he had actually gone to the lengths of talking to her in his study and he had specifically said that he would not change his mind. She had burst into tears, and he had told her sternly to stop being a fool, because he had no intention of letting her throw herself away on a country bumpkin with no prospects whatsoever.

"Hello, Elizabeth—I mean, Miss Maxwell."

She turned around. He was red, as if embarrassed that he had been improper. "Good day, James." She felt rebellious, energised against her father.

He grinned. "I may call you Elizabeth, then?"

"You may." She felt the glumness lifting off her. "I _am_ glad you have come," she said impulsively. "I felt like talking to someone."

"You did?" he said, taking a seat on the grass beside her. "Why? Are you still unwell?"

"Unwell?" she said, surprised. "I am perfectly healthy."

He looked a little conscious. "Your mother said, when she came to visit this morning, that you had a bad cold."

She sighed, and went red. "Did she? That is strange."

He watched her for a moment. "Is it because of me?"

"What?"

"That your father won't let you come."

She couldn't look at him. Her cheeks were too red now, and she looked suddenly at the ground.

"Forgive me," he said suddenly. "That was impertinent."

His words seemed to rouse her, and she swung around to face him. "Yes. It is because of you. My father…"

"Because I am not wealthy," he sighed.

"I am sorry," she whispered.

"You are!" he said, looking up at her.

She couldn't help but smile. "Yes."

He was on his feet at once, and she found herself standing too. "Elizabeth… I know it is foolish to feel this way; I have known you all of a week, but I feel like I have known you much longer than that…"

Her heart raced. "I know, James, I really know! But we cannot talk of it! My father—"

He took a deep breath and said it. "I think I am in love with you. What does your father have to do with that?"

She stopped. "You are?"

"I am. I am sure I am."

"I think I love you, too." She blushed, but met his gaze square-on.

He took her hands. "Elizabeth…"

She was going to respond, but he leant in and kissed her lightly, quietly on the lips. "I am sorry. Feel free to slap me."

She laughed delightedly. "Do it again."

So he did.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

However delirious Elizabeth was when she got home, it did not last. By nightfall, she was lying in her bed, sobbing, trying to hide the flow from Alice's astute ears. By the time the initial ecstasy of love had given way, the thought had occurred to her that any chance of a future with James was less than infinitesimal. From then on, her mood had deteriorated until even the memory of happiness that afternoon was pain, in itself. Alice was not to be fooled, either.

"What's the matter, Elizabeth?" Alice whispered. Elizabeth felt her bed sink as Alice sat down on the side of it.

Elizabeth didn't reply.

"Elizabeth, please. Tell me."

Elizabeth rolled over and looked up at her sister. "I met James in the woods, by accident."

"Well, what's wrong with that? Don't say he doesn't like you!"

"No…" Elizabeth murmured. "He loves me."

Alice raised her eyebrows, and breathed in slowly. "I see. And… you love him too?"

"Yes."

"So why are you crying?"

Elizabeth wiped her eyes, and sat up, hiccuping slightly. "Alice, Father is _never_ going to let us marry."

Alice looked unconvinced. "I think he might, if you wait long enough."

"No, he won't," cried Elizabeth, sounding a little hysterical. "He won't! He told me, yesterday!"

"Shh!" said Alice. "You don't know how he'll act."

"Go back to sleep, Alice. You don't understand." Alice looked upset. "No, I don't mean that. I'm sorry. I just have a bad feeling about everything."

"Goodnight," muttered Alice, hurt. She clambered back into bed. Everything was quiet for a few minutes.

"Elizabeth… did he kiss you?"

Elizabeth giggled. "Yes. Twice."

Alice laughed too. "Goodnight."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The Collinses came around to the Bennets' houses for dinner on the next Sunday. Henrietta took great pleasure in talking to Mrs Bennet in a loud voice about how interesting, fashionable and clever Jonathan Maxwell was, whenever James was in hearing distance. James tried not to smile. At least it made her feel triumphant.

He sat and talked patiently to Frederick, becoming more and more frustrated with his cousin as usual—conversation was never the best showcase for Frederick, who seemed to think that drains were a legitimate choice of conversation topic if one was wishing to be interesting.

"Of course, one can never be too careful about making the right decisions in these things, or you must live with the wrong ones later," said Frederick in a serious voice. "I told Father that I did not think the first option good enough for what we experience with the weather here in Surrey. I feel sure that it would rust too easily. But the second option, I said, has the benefits both of longevity and attractiveness. He agreed with me, in the end, and we have commissioned workers to come to Hollands on Monday. What do you think of that, eh? … James?"

James blinked. "I'm sorry, Frederick," he said, sighing. "I … I suppose I have a lot on my mind."

Frederick patted him on the back. "Don't worry, I know how it happens! I always have a lot on my mind also—more, I imagine, even than you!"

James sighed again.

Frederick looked at him kindly. "What's bothering you, James?"

James turned to look at him properly with a dry smile. "I don't think you could help. It seems to me an impossible situation."

"I will try to help," promised Frederick.

James paused, and smiled at his cousin. "Thank you, Frederick. Well, I … I don't know how to tell you!" He looked at the floor, twisting his wine glass in his hands. "I am in love with Miss Maxwell."

Frederick started. "What? In love?"

James shrugged. "Yes. Her father is diametrically opposed to me, because I have no prospects."

"Really, James, how can you be in love with her? You are so young! You have only known her for a week or so!"

James frowned. "I would not have told you if I had known you would treat it like this."

Frederick sighed. "I'm sorry. I just don't understand how you can be in love with her. I do grant you this though, she's as pretty as a picture…"

"It's not that," snapped James. "I really thought you would understand, Frederick! I love her because she is… she just is… right for me."

Frederick gazed at his cousin, his brow knitted. "I see."

"I just don't know what to do!" said James, putting down his glass and staring at the floor again. "She says her father will never agree to anything."

"James!" uttered Frederick in scandalised accents. "Don't say you have spoken to her about this!"

"So it is indelicate, indecorous… I know. However, it is too late now. I am in love with her," he said firmly, enunciating each word so Frederick couldn't possibly miss his meaning.

"Well!" gasped Frederick. "I don't know what I am supposed to do about this mess! I must say, very badly done, James!"

"I didn't expect you to do anything, Frederick!" said James angrily. "I just wanted to _talk_ to you! Well, I shall know better next time." He jumped up, and ran up the stairs to Cathy's room.

Frederick sat back, and shook his head sadly. Would James _ever_ learn?


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter Five—Cathy Knows_

"Hello, James!" said Cathy eagerly as he appeared in the doorway. "Is Henrietta still here? Did she flirt with—James, what's the matter?"

He walked slowly in, and sat down beside her on the bed, taking her hand and drawing shapes on her palm. He grimaced. "Frederick."

"No," said Cathy. "It's not just him?"

James smiled. "How do you know these things?"

"I know you," she said simply.

He squeezed her hand, and shrugged helplessly. "I'm in love with Elizabeth."

"So what's the problem with that? I knew it already. Don't say she doesn't love you!"

There was a flash of a smile from James. "It's not that."

Cathy grinned. "She loves you, then? I thought she would! So what is the problem, James?"

He looked grim again. "Her father."

Cathy's smile faded. "Oh."

"Yes."

"Is there no chance… at all?"

"Nothing."

"Are you sure?" asked Cathy carefully.

"Elizabeth says he is totally decided against it; she is certain he will never consider the marriage, unless, I suppose, my circumstances suddenly change, and that's very unlikely."

Cathy gripped his hand. "What are you going to do?" she asked, sounding frightened. The idea of James—James!—being disliked by anyone was horrible.

James tried to smile. "I really don't know. I tried to talk to Frederick about it, but he simply told me off for even talking to Elizabeth about it in the first place, and told me I was too young and I'd known her for too short a time, and that I'd made a mess of everything. So I came up to see you."

Cathy scowled. "I hate Frederick."

James gave a short, sharp laugh. "He's a stodge, but he's not normally so unbearable, you know."

Cathy shook her head vehemently. "He is _always_ unbearable."

"It's a good thing I'm not in a mood to be an example right now. Cathy, your behaviour is despicable. There, I've said it."

"It's a good thing Aunt Matilda isn't here right now," retorted Cathy, "for that matter." She paused. "James, I'm sure it will be worked out. Things generally work out for the best."

"Yes, in novels and fairy tales and the like," he groaned. "And even if they do, how do I know that some interfering Fate has decided that _my_ best is not what I think it is?"

"I don't know," said Cathy quietly. "But I still think things do work themselves out, often."

"I wish I'd never met her," said James. "No, it's not true. I can't imagine not ever having met her. But I imagine that life was a little easier last week. My biggest problem was Oedipus."

Cathy sat back against her pillows quietly. "I'm sorry, James."

He was startled. "What for?"

She wasn't entirely sure herself. "I don't know. I'm just sorry that this is happening."

He looked at her carefully. "Are you feeling well, Cathy?"

She looked away. "I'm a little tired, that's all."

He got up at once. "I'm so sorry, Cathy. I shouldn't burden you with my silly little problems."

He was at the door when she quietly replied, "I don't think it's silly," and closed her eyes.

----

When Cathy opened her eyes the next morning, the first thing she noticed was a bright light. She rubbed her eyes slowly, and noticed the warmth of her room, and soon after that, the peaceful little talking noises coming from the direction of the windows. She pushed herself up a little on her elbows and squinted in their direction. James turned to her with an affectionate smile. "Good morning, sleepyhead."

She smiled in return. "Good morning, James. Good morning, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth smiled warmly at her, getting up and coming across the room to stroke her hair. Cathy wondered how she knew how much Cathy loved having her hair stroked—no one knew that, not even James, but when people did it, people whom she liked, it gave her the most wonderful _feel_. "Cathy, I'm so sorry I couldn't come the other day with Mama and Helena. And today, I could not bring Helena, and I am sorry for that also."

"It's fine," said Cathy, looking at James to see how he appeared. He was wearing his nice coat. Good. And he looked happy. "James said he loves you."

Elizabeth blushed. "I think so, yes," she whispered into Cathy's ear. Straightening up, she cast a slightly more melancholy look at James. "How nice it is to talk about it as if it is not a sin!"

"Why should it be a sin?" Cathy protested.

"Well, I don't think so, in any event," said Elizabeth firmly, "but… oh, never mind, I am glad that you know, Cathy."

James stood up from the window seat and came to the bedside also. Cathy liked how he watched Elizabeth with such evident pleasure. Her movements, her smiles, her mannerisms, her emotions. One could tell he loved everything about her. He put an arm around her back and kissed her cheek. "I love you."

Cathy grinned, and Elizabeth couldn't help laughing with delight. "Yes, James, I know!" She smiled mischievously. "But I can't help thinking that perhaps I love you more…"

"Impossible," James replied firmly, and she giggled.

"I think you must get married," said Cathy.

They stopped smiling abruptly, as if they had suddenly remembered a nightmare.

"Did not James tell you, Cathy?" asked Elizabeth gently. "My father will not have it."

"I told her," said James glumly.

"Yes, I know," said Cathy, "but once you are one-and-twenty, he cannot stop you, can he?"

"That is true," said Elizabeth thoughtfully. "But… you know, I have no doubt he would disown me."

"Well, that might be hard," admitted Cathy. "Do you think you could choose between your family and James?"

Elizabeth looked at James slowly and carefully. She paused, smiling. "You know, I think perhaps I could."

James couldn't smile though he wanted to. "Elizabeth, you don't know how much that means to me."

She nodded. "I have an idea of it." She threw off the seriousness of the moment. "Well, at least I wouldn't have to stomach sitting at home and receiving visits from people like Mr Collins!—oh, goodness, I am sorry. I forgot for a moment he was your cousin."

James raised his eyebrows. "Frederick! He has visited you?"

"Yes," she moaned. "Several times! I wish he would not because although he is doubtless a very respectable man, he is really rather dull."

"I hate Frederick," said Cathy.

"I am beginning to think I do too," agreed James.

"Oh! you must not think that, James," said Elizabeth, smiling. "I am certain he is not… is not trying to fix his interest with me, or anything like that. Why, he is always talking about drains or cows or things like that, and that is hardly how one tries to please a girl, is it?"

"It is obvious to me that you don't know Frederick at all," said Cathy.

She looked surprised. "Well, I suppose he did try and talk about his future children, but he started _blushing_ and ran out of the juice for it eventually."

James jumped up, clenching his fists. "I will kill him."

"Oh no, you mustn't, for I have no intention of marrying him, James," Elizabeth assured him.

"That does not change it at all," cried James. "I _told _him I love you. I never thought he would try to cut me out!"

"It's betrayal," said Cathy succinctly.

Elizabeth took James' hands and led him to the window seat, where he sat down reluctantly. "You have _nothing_ to worry about. Why do you think I would ever marry Frederick Collins? The man is a blank space in my heart. I care only for you. Does it matter if he likes me? Laugh at him, because I love you."

James kissed her hand. "You are always right."

"I wish he would say that to me," sighed Cathy, and they all laughed.


End file.
